


Yuri!!! In Writing

by Astersong



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: M/M, but open to comments!, just me wanting to write out yoi, just writing for me, nothing special
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-02-26
Updated: 2017-02-25
Packaged: 2018-09-26 19:30:38
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,987
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9918908
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Astersong/pseuds/Astersong
Summary: This is the plot line of Yuri!!! on Ice but written out by a sleep deprived high school student. (ha) This is mostly for me, but maybe helpful to those who can't reach the anime or prefer reading it instead. I'm open to any comments or suggestions about my writing and would appreciate it greatly :3





	

The room is dark and silent, save for the sound of ice skates cutting through the ice. Shadows stripe over the glittering surface and pool under the skater as he moves. Pale white lines are carved into the ice in wake of the blades. Light glints off of the metal as they twist with the skater’s movements, slashing and swirling, clicking on the ice as a figure lands a jump following a graceful twirl.

An expanse of bright blue sky shines through the tall windows, letting in icy blue light that glows on the ice and cause the shadows coating the skater to dance with his movements. The skater slips into the light. He is tall and graceful, with long legs and long silver hair that sweeps with his every motion. His actions are smooth, planned, practiced and refined. He sweeps across the rink, the sound of blades cutting ice pursuing him and echoing around the room. 

_He never fails to surprise me._

Long silver hair flutters as the figure spins and slips into the shadow of the wall. He emerges from the shadows, appearing as he does now in the future. His hair is cropped, a section of it longer and covering his left eye. The light from the window outlines his face and hair, tracing the shape of his neck and shoulders. 

From the rinkside, a boy watches. He’s younger than the skater on the ice. His brown eyes are wide in amazement, black hair disheveled. Blue horn rimmed glasses line the boy’s eyes. 

_Ever since I first saw his skating, it’s been an unending chain of surprises._

The skater faces the boy. His arms sweep in a final part of his choreography, and the boy's eyes narrow in determination.

  
\---------------------------

Can you hear my heartbeat?  
Tired of feeling never enough  
I close my eyes  
And tell myself  
That my dreams will come true, 

There’ll be no more darkness  
When you believe in yourself  
You are unstoppable  
Where your destiny lies  
Dancing on the blades 

You set my heart on fire 

Don’t stop us now  
The moment of truth  
We were born to make history  
We’ll make it happen  
We’ll turn it around 

Yes we were born to make history! 

Born to make history  
Born to make history 

Don’t stop us now   
The moment of truth  
We were born to make history  
We’ll make it happen  
We’ll turn it around 

Yes we were born to make history! 

Yes we were born to make history! 

\---------------------------  


The crowd roars at the Sochi Grand Prix Final. The men’s free skate had just ended in the stadium, lights blaring out the foggy windows.

“He’s also crushed the free skating event!” the announcer says, voice blaring over the crowd. 

Viktor Nikiforov skates out onto the ice, bouquet in one hand and a gold medal around his neck. He wears his costume for the free skate- a dark pink jacket with a see through sparkling rosy pink over his shoulders and right arm. Gold epaulets rest on his shoulders, matching the golden ropes that pin the front of his jacket and hang from his shoulder and around his upper arm. Black gloves slip over his forearms and his thumbs. A white collared shirt peeks out from under his jacket, leaving a sliver of his chest open. Cameras flash as the three medalists approach the center of the ice rink. 

“It will be the fifth consecutive Grand Prix Final victory for Russia’s legend, Viktor Nikiforov.” 

Viktor greets the crowd, giving another graceful spin and a charming smile. He raises the medal and smiles as cameras flash again. Viktor tips his head, kisses the medal, then raises the bouquet.

“Nikiforov is now 27 years old. Some speculated that he might retire this season, but his masterful performance seems to lay such rumors to rest,” the announcer says as watches. “As for Katsuki Yuuri, who earned a spot in the Grand Prix for the first time, uh, what do you think, Honda-san?”

In a crowded hall off the ice, another skater sits, scrolling through his phone as his coach watches him. It’s the same boy who had watched Viktor from the rinkside, eyes full of amazement. It’s in stark contrast to the downcast expression he wears now.

“Well, he didn’t perform like his usual self today,” Honda replies, sympathy laced in his voice. 

Men’s Figure Skating: Katsuki Suffers Utter Defeat

The title blares out of Yuuri’s phone, his hands pausing at the side of his screen. 

“Yuuri, don’t look at the news,” his coach says. Celestino stares down at Yuuri as he speaks, gesturing with his arms. “Let’s go back.”

“Katsuki Fell to Last Place. Is This Season His Last?” Yuuri interrupts, reading the title. His eyes are fixed on his phone screen. 

“Yuuri…” his coach says. 

He takes a breath and looks up at his coach. His coach is a tall, broad shouldered man with long brown hair that he keeps in a ponytail draped over his shoulder. He wears a grey suit now. Yuuri gets up to head for the bathroom. 

_My name is Katsuki Yuuri! I’m one of the dime-a-dozen top figure skaters certified by the JSF. I’m 23. My name makes me sound strong, but I finished last at my first Grand Prix Final. I still can’t accept what happened! I even moved to a training facility in Detroit and worked hard to make it to the final._

Yuuri wanders down the hall, eyes still fixed on his phone as he walks. 

_But the pressure had me binge-eating before the match, and our family dog died…_

Yuuri keeps walking, fluorescent lights blaring down on him and the blue floor. He turns and heads into the bathroom. 

_Mentally and physically, I was at my worst! It was supposed to be my big day, too..._

Behind him, a boy rounds the corner, leaning back against the wall. His black hood covers his blonde hair, which hangs to his jawline. His hands are stuffed in his jacket pockets. His jacket is blue with white sleeves and red collar, the collar having a stripe of white. A gold eagle crest is imprinted on the sleeve’s shoulder, “National Team” written in small red print below it. “Russia” is written over the front of the jacket. The boy leans his head back against the wall and takes a breath. 

_Well, it’s all my fault, anyways._

Yuuri’s phone rings as Yuuri slips into one of the red stalls. The bathroom is tiled with blue, a mirror stretching over one wall over a line of sinks. 

“Hello?” he says. Yuuri sits on a toilet, his leg pivoting anxiously as he speaks. “Mom, were you sleeping?” 

A pause. 

“Sorry. Oh, you were watching on TV?.... Huh? A public viewing? Please! I’m so embarrassed!” Yuuri flails his free arm anxiously, a light blush over his cheeks. He laughs nervously. He pauses, and his lip trembles. He leans forward. Tears begin to form as he replies. 

“I’m sorry. I messed up.” 

Yuuri’s hand falls to his knee, his thumb pressing the end call button. He clenches his hand around his phone as his breaths begin to come in short gasps. Outside the stall, the boy stands outside the door as he listens. The only sounds in the room are Yuuri’s gasps and a droplet of water falling from the faucet and into the sink below. Tears fall silently from Yuuri’s eyes, and he pushes his glasses up as he wipes his tears away. 

The boy outside the stall lifts his foot, spinning in a roundhouse kick that shakes the entire stall. Yuuri jumps in surprise, nearly falling off the toilet. Ah, perhaps it was selfish to be taking up a stall for such a long time. Yuuri dries his tears and opens the door. 

“Sorry.”

He’s greeted by the sight of red leopard print shoes. His gaze drifts up, and he meets a pair of glittering green eyes. The boy’s expression is set into one of disdain. 

_The Junior Grand Prix Final gold medalist… Yuri Plisetsky._

Yuri’s eyes narrow as he scoffs at Yuuri. His blonde hair falls over his right eye, but it does little to hide the glare printed on Yuri’s face. 

_The “Russian Punk” is looking at me like I’m a piece of trash…_

Yuuri trembles as he faces Yuri, despite how much taller Japanese Yuuri is. 

_What the hell?!_

“Hey.” Yuri points a finger at Yuuri. “I’m competing in the senior division next year. We don’t need two Yuris in the same bracket. Incompetents like you should just retire already,” Yuri says, glaring as he shifts to his right. “Moron!” He yells, getting on his toes to lean into Yuuri’s face. He turns and exits, leaving a shocked Yuuri in his wake. 

_Even if I left the sport, there’d be tons of talented young skaters rising through the ranks._

  
\---------------------------  


Yuuri walks by his coach as they head through the crowd to reach the airport. He pulls a silver suitcase behind him and a black duffle over his shoulder.

“Katsuki-kun!” a voice yells. 

Yuuri and Celestino turn. 

“Newscaster Morooka…” Yuuri says quietly. 

Morooka is a man with spiky dark brown hair and eyes, his expression set into one of determination, as if he’s trying to convince Yuuri or something. 

“Don’t give up!” Morooka says. “It’s too early for you to retire!” He leans towards Yuuri. 

“It’s not like I’ve made a decision. Please don’t make assumptions,” Yuuri replies. His tone is flat and unsure, almost exhausted. 

“What will you do after you graduate from college?” Morooka questions. 

Yuuri’s eyes drift outside the window into the night. “Uh…” People loiter outside in the gentle snowfall. 

“Will you still train in Detroit?” Morooka presses. 

“I’ll be talking that over with Coach Celestino.”

“Katsuki-kun, I’m asking how _you_ feel about this!” Morooka says. 

Morooka’s voice fades into the background as Yuuri’s thoughts cloud his mind. 

_I don’t want to think right now._

Yuuri’s eyes fix on a small brown poodle cradled in a woman’s arms. 

“Will you keep going? Maybe just part time?” 

_I’m sorry, Vicchan._

The dog’s pink tongue hangs out as it shifts and shakes as it breathes. Its curly brown fur looks fluffy as it presses against the woman’s arms. 

“You still have a chance back in Japan,” Morooka continues. 

_Sorry I can’t go home._

“Yuri.” 

Yuuri turns at the sound of his name. His eyes find Viktor Nikiforov talking to Yuri Plisetsky. The pair walk through the crowd side by side. They both tote luggages, Yuri looking bored at Viktor’s words. 

“About your free performance, the step sequence could use more-”

“I won, so who cares?” Yuri interrupts, tilting his head back. “Quit nagging, Viktor.”

Yuuri watches them pass. 

_Oh, the Yuri on the Russian team…_

“Hey, Yuri!” an old man yells. Yuuri recognizes him as Yakov Feltsman, Yuri and Viktor’s coach. “You can’t talk that way forever!”

_If I do have a chance, someday I’d like to…_

Viktor turns a little, noticing Yuuri. Yuuri jumps in surprise as Viktor turns his full attention to him. 

“A commemorative photo?” he offers. He’s smiling brightly at Yuuri, blue eyes shining. “Sure,” Viktor says, raising a hand. 

Yuuri blinks, then turns on his heel. 

“Katsuki-kun?” Morooka says uncertainly. “You don’t want a photo with Viktor?”

Yuuri keeps walking in the opposite direction, head ducked and leaving Viktor behind him. 

“Yuuri!” Celestino yells after him. 

Yuuri ignores them and keeps going. 

_This is humiliating._

Viktor watches Yuuri leave, his smile gone and face set in a neutral but thinking expression. It looks as if there’s a ghost of a memory tugging at Viktor. Behind him, Yakov continues to scold Yuri. 

_I was an idiot for thinking I could finally meet my idol on the same playing field…_

  
\---------------------------

_March, One Year Later - Kyushu  
Hasetsu Station_  


A train speeds away, leaving Yuuri alone on the train platform.

_It’s been five years since my last visit to Hasetsu._

Yuuri pulls down the mask that covers his nose and mouth as he stands on the escalator taking him down a floor. He’s bundled in several coats, a blue scarf and a beanie, a brown backpack over his shoulder and luggage at his side. He takes a breath of familiar Hasetsu air. 

_This old station even has elevated tracks now._

Yuuri steps off the escalator then yelps in surprise, his eyes landing on a poster that covers the entire wall. It’s one of _him_ , his arm outstretched in a graceful position with a cheery expression on. 

“We’re Rooting for You!! Hasetsu Native Figure Skater Katsuki Yuuri!” the poster reads. 

“Th-This is…” Yuuri stutters. 

“Yuuri!” a voice greets from behind him. “Why are you skulking around?”

Yuuri jumps, whipping around. 

“M-Minako-sensei!?” he splutters. 

He faces Minako, who is a tall, lithe woman with brown hair and eyes. Her long hair drapes over her back and her bangs are pulled back from her face, pinned over the top of her head. She’s wearing a cappuccino colored coat that ends at her knees over a light blue cardigan, white shirt and blue jeans. 

Minako twirls, unfurling a banner as she does. “Welcome back, after five long years!” She raises her leg, landing in a perfect position. Yuuri knows that it’s because her movements are practiced, even with the high heeled ankle boots she wears now.

“Wh-Why are you here?” Yuuri asks. His voice is laced with anxiousness. 

“Stand up straight, will you?” Minako whines, twirling again and folding the banner. 

Yuuri jolts. 

_Oh, right… Minako-sensei wouldn’t miss any info on me coming back here._

“Hey!”

Yuuri jumps again, tracking the voice to a man who stares at him. 

“Isn’t that Yuuri?”

“Yeah, it’s him.”

“I haven’t heard any news about him lately. What’s he been up to?” 

Yuuri turns around anxiously as voices begin to murmur around him, his name drifting around like dust in the wind. 

“Remember he lost a big competition last year?”

“Was it the Nationals?” 

_Hi, everyone who cheered me on just because I’m from Hasetsu! I can’t explain this to each of you, but I’ll go ahead and explain it in my head, okay?_

_The figure skating competition season generally starts in the fall, but I lost big in the comprehensive Grand Prix Finals early on. I couldn’t shake off the failure, and lost again in the Nationals. I didn’t make it to the Four Continents or the World Championships, and now the season’s over!!_

Yuuri scans his pass and walks through the gate that admits him out of the train platform. 

_I managed to graduate from college, but I ended things with my coach, and my future in unclear. I decided to come home in the meantime. That’s about it._

A man approaches him and holds out a hand.

“Let me shake your hand.” 

“Sorry, I’m in a hurry,” Yuuri says, turning away and pulling his mask up. 

“You don’t lose anything by shaking hands! Be polite!” Minako scolds, balancing on one foot and pointing into Yuuri’s face. She leans in closer. “Viktor Nikiforov is always nice to his fans!” 

Minako takes Yuuri’s hand and extends it to a child and his grandmother. Yuuri stands with a weak smile. 

“Thank you for your support,” Yuuri says weakly. 

“Go on, smile,” Minako says in a strained voice as the child laughs and happily shakes Yuuri’s hand vigorously. 

“Who are you again?” the child’s grandmother asks. Yuuri smiles weakly.

  
\---------------------------  


Hasetsu is a small town that still has remnants of its history evident on the streets. Statues line the streets and pathways, pink cherry blossom petals fluttering through the wind. Some of the homes are done in a traditional Japanese style, with sloping out shingled roofs.

“All right!” Minako says brightly, dragging Yuuri along. She walks briskly down the platform, arm raised happily like she's leading a parade. “You’re going to greet everyone in town.”

“Minako-sensei, what about your ballet class?” Yuuri questions. Cherry blossom petals continue to fall around the pair as they walk. 

Minako turns her head around to look at Yuuri, her brown hair swishing. “We’re closed today. I barely have any students these days, anyway,” she says wistfully. “Hasetsu’s losing more and more people. Hardly any kids are skating these days. You should cheer things up around here, Yuuri!”

Yuuri jumps, then stops, pulling back on Minako’s hand, which is wrapped around his wrist. Minako stops and faces him. 

“I-I’m sorry,” Yuuri says quietly. He hunches over. “I’m tired right now…”

“Oh, really?” Minako lets go of Yuuri’s hand, which drops back to his side. “Everyone’s been dying to see you.”

Yuuri’s eyes fix on the floor. He frowns, almost looking guilty.

  
\---------------------------  
_World Figure Skating Championships  
Yoyogi, Tokyo_  


“After the men’s short program of the World Figure Skating Championships, Russia’s Viktor Nikiforov is in first place,” the reporter’s voice says.

Viktor and his coach walk in an aisle sectioned off for them, reporters and the press huddled around the blue metal barriers that keep them back. Cameras flash at the pair.

  
_Viktor Nikiforov (27) in 1st Place After Short Program  
Will he score a 5th Consecutive win?!_  


Viktor pulls of his sunglasses, showing off beautiful blue eyes and flicking his silver hair back, winking at a crowd of his fans charmingly. Screams of adoration and heart eyes follow.

“After the Grand Prix Finals, he won the Nationals in Russia, as well as the European Championships.”

The camera pans out, showing a reporter in front of the Tokyo stadium. 

“He’s still on a roll. The men’s free program will start later today, at 7:00.” The reporter’s voice blares out of the TV, which faces a restaurant. Customers lounge at tables, sipping tea and beer at low lying tables as they watch the TV or converse with friends.

  
_Hasetsu Hot Springs. Yu-topia Katsuki._  


The restaurant is decorated traditionally, with lanterns and paper screens that section off some of the side tables and the kitchen. The floor is made of dark brown wood that matches the many low lying tables and support beams of the building.

One of the customers turns around to speak to a woman at the back of the restaurant, lowering his glass. “Yuuri-kun isn’t in the World Championships?” he asks. 

Another customer turns as the woman replies. “He didn’t make the cut,” she says. The woman carries a tray with a wine bottle, glass and bucket of ice. “Thanks to that, he can finally come home!” 

The woman is short and round, with short, chocolatey brown hair that frames her face and ends at her jaw. She has a friendly disposition, her brown eyes welcoming behind the glasses that perch on her nose. 

“I’m glad to hear that,” the customer replies.

“I’m home,” Yuuri’s voice says flatly to the woman’s right.

The woman turns happily at his voice. 

“Hiroko! I brought Yuuri home!” Minako yells into the restaurant. 

Minako and Yuuri stand at the entrance of the building, surrounded by lanterns, masks and a red bench to their right. Bulbs of pink, white, red, green and yellow paper decoration hang from the ceiling.

“Why are we coming in the front?” Yuuri asks as Minako jumps happily at her announcement. 

“Minako-senpai!” Hiroko greets, running from the main restaurant. She raises her hand and waves as she runs. “Thank you for going to get him! Yuuri, welcome home!” Hiroko stops before Yuuri, smiling brightly as she faces them. 

“Thanks,” Yuuri says. “I’m sorry it’s been five years…”

“It’s all good!” his mother assures him, waving her hands. “I’m sorry I couldn’t make it to your graduation, too.” She presses her hands together apologetically. “Want a pork cutlet bowl?” 

“Huh? Did you lose weight, Hiroko?” Minako asks, shifting her weight onto one leg. She leans closer to Hiroko. 

“Nope!” Hiroko says happily, pulling her arms to her chest. “Minako-senpai, you always look the same, even though you drink!”

Minako suddenly shifts her attention to Yuuri, her eyes narrowing in suspicion. 

“Yuuri-” Yuuri jolts, straightening his back with a yelp- “I’ve been wondering ever since I saw you at the station… what’s with that gut?” 

Yuuri turns around, stooping down. “Uh…” He begins to slowly walk away, only to have Minako grab onto the back of his jacket and pull him back. 

“Take your clothes off!” Minako orders. 

“No, no! Minako-sensei!” Yuuri yells in protest. His outer layers of clothes begin to fly through the room, leaving him in a shirt and pants. 

Minako yells in horror at Yuuri’s form, which is now pudgy with added weight. 

“Wow, you look just like your mom,” his father teases, pointing at Yuuri with a laugh. He looks out of one of the sliding screens. 

“Dad…” Yuuri says weakly. 

“Toshio-san! It’s no laughing matter!” Minako yells, causing Yuuri to jump. “This is not the weight a figure skater should have!” 

Yuuri fidgets at Minako’s words. 

“You always did gain weight easily,” his father says, spreading his hands. “But what can you do? Eat lots of pork cutlet bowls tonight!” He leans forward on the counter and motions to the Yu-topia Katsuki Specialty Dish: Yuuri’s Pork Cutlet Bowl. A plastic imitation of the dish is displayed, the poster Yuuri saw at the train station posted behind it. 

“Uh, before that…” Yuuri says, trailing off. 

“Oh, right,” his mother says, tipping her head and smiling, “go say hi to Vicchan.”

  
\---------------------------  


Yuuri sits on a pillow facing a shrine, a photo of a young Yuuri and small brown poodle perched at the center of the alcove. Twin vases flank the photo, and smoke curls off of an incense bowl in front of shrine. Yuuri bows his head.

_Sorry I couldn’t see you one last time, Vicchan._

The room is small, with sliding glass doors that let in golden light from the outside to the right. A treadmill sits to the left of the shrine. The shrine itself is in the center of the wall opposite of a sliding paper door, with a small brown table that holds bowls and a candle set in front of it. The space is quiet and serene, lit only by the natural sunlight from outside. 

The door behind Yuuri quietly slides open. Yuuri twists around as his sister rounds the corner and leans on the door frame. Her brown hair is pulled back by a purple headband, the ends of her hair dyed blonde. She wears a red robe with a dark purple apron that rests over her thighs. 

“Yuuri, welcome home,” she says. 

“Mari-nee chan…” Yuuri says. Mari smiles warmly at her brother as he finishes his thought. “It’s been a while. Sorry to visit when things are busy.”

“Hey, how long are you staying in Hasetsu? Will you help out with the hot spring?” Mari pulls out a pack of cigarettes and a lighter. She takes a cigarette between her lips. 

“Huh? Where’s this coming from?” Yuuri asks. 

“You went to college, even though you had to study an extra year.” The cigarette bobs in Mari’s mouth as she speaks. “What will you do now?” She raises the lighter, lighting the end of the cigarette. Smoke curls up from the cigarette and from Mari’s mouth when she exhales. 

“If you’re going to keep skating, I’ll support you, but…” Mari trails off. 

“I think… I need more time to think it over,” Yuuri says carefully. 

“Hmm, okay,” Mari says, pushing off the wall and turning. Yuuri looks surprised at his sister’s calm reaction after all of the reporters and media that pressed for answers. “Well, go soak in the hot spring and relax.” Mari leaves the room, leaving a fading trail of smoke in her wake.

  
\---------------------------  


I was born and raised in Hasetsu, Kyushu, a castle town by the sea. The “castle” has no historical basis and is a facade with a ninja house inside. Its sole source of tourism income was its hot spring inns, but most went under. My family’s Yu-topia Katsuki is the last one standing.

The hot spring is outside, bordered off by a tall bamboo fence. A pool is in the center of the space, decorated with a fountain at its center and lined with large, flat grey rocks. There’s a sculpted open clam shell at the far end of the pool that houses a statue. Steam curls off of the pool’s surface and fades into Hasetsu’s clear blue sky. 

Yuuri soaks up to his neck in the water, a towel folded and resting on his head. 

“Man, our hot spring sure hits the spot…” Yuuri says blissfully. 

From inside the restaurant, Minako sits in front of a TV, a glass in hand and blue jacket pooled around her waist. 

“Group 2 has now finished skating, and Emil Nekola from the Czech Republic is in first,” the announcer says. 

Minako raises her glass, its contents swishing. She leans back on her other hand, eyes fixed on the TV. 

“Man, I really wanted to go,” Minako says wistfully. “If only you’d been in it, Yuuri.” 

“His free program performance, befitting the season finale, was free of mistakes, earning him a personal best,” the announcer continues. 

“You could’ve told me the skaters’ hotel room numbers,” Minako says. 

“I wouldn’t tell you!” Yuuri says, entering the room with a towel around his neck. 

Minako glares. 

“The last group has just entered the arena,” says the announcer from the TV. 

“You expect me to be your one-man ticket agency to score you tickets, don’t you?” Yuuri questions. 

“That’s not true! I’ve been supporting you!” Minako protests.

“All eyes are on Viktor Nikiforov, who’s going for his fifth consecutive World Championship gold,” the announcer says. The camera switches to an image of Viktor, who practices his choreography as his coach watches. “He will be skating last.” 

The camera focuses on Viktor’s graceful motions, his face serene and focused on his routine. Yuuri watches as well, a light blush on his cheeks. 

“Well, Honda-san, this is certainly unexplored territory! It’ll really be interesting to see how far he can go,” the voice from the tv says. 

“What about soccer?” a customer asks, lowering his newspaper. “Sagan Tosu’s having a match right now.” He grabs the remote and points it to the tv. 

“When you watch Viktor…” the announcer says. 

Minako slams her cup down on the table and reaches for the remote before the channel can be changed. “Hey! I was watching skating first!” she snaps. 

Yuuri’s father opens the sliding window that leads to the kitchen. “Sagan Tosu?” he says. 

“Aren’t you supposed to be working?” a customer points out. There’s a few laughs as Yuuri exits the room. Outside, his mother is unloading a van. 

“Oh, where are you going, Yuuri?” she questions as her son appears at the door. 

“Sorry. I’m going to practice for a bit,” Yuuri replies, jogging out the main gates. 

“Take care!” Hiroko calls after him. 

Yuuri jogs down the road and across the bridge, the sky in shades of purple, pink and yellow. The only sounds are the sounds of his breaths, footsteps and the occasional drone of an engine.

  
\---------------------------  


Ice Castle Hasetsu is an ice skating rink. It’s open to the public, and where Yuuri himself had started skating. A woman is hanging up a last pair of rental skates onto the racks of identical black shoes. Her brown hair is pulled up in a high ponytail, strands left out around her face. She wears a white track jacket over a deep pink shirt that has sleeves that fit over her palms and hook around her thumb, accompanied with black shorts and leggings.

The automatic doors slide open to admit Yuuri. 

“Excuse me,” he calls into the room. 

“Our regular hours are over,” the woman says. She finishes hanging the skates and turns, her chestnut, almost pink eyes lighting in recognition. 

Yuuri fidgets his leg nervously, ducking under his hood. “It’s been a while, Yuko- san,” he says. He fidgets his hands when Yuko turns to look at him. 

“Yuuri-kun?” Yuko says. Yuuri nods shyly. 

“Oh, come on!” Yuko says, running to the counter and leaning over it. “Call me Yu-chan!”

“S-Sorry,” Yuuri says. 

“Oh, you came to skate, right? Go ahead,” she invites. Her eyes shine brightly. 

“Huh? I can?” Yuuri says hesitantly, lowering his hood. 

“You want to skate alone for now, right? I’ll protect you,” Yuko says with a wink. 

“Thanks,” Yuuri says, smiling. 

Yuko returns his smile warmly. 

_Yu-chan was my rink mate and two years my senior. When we were little, she was really good at skating._

Yuuri sits at one of the benches, lacing up his skates. He had changed his clothes, his shirt and sweater folded neatly by his side.

_She was my idol, the Madonna of Ice Castle Hasetsu._

Yuuri straightens, smiling at Yuko, who scribbles on paper work. She smiles in return. 

_She’s still cute, too._

  
**************  


_A young Yuuri skates to a stop in front of Yuko, who smiles in amazement at him. Yuuri wears a baggy blue sweater with gold sleeves and collar, a Y embroidered on the front._

_“Ta-da!” Yuuri exclaims, stretching his arms and leg out in a finishing pose. His cheeks are a rosy pink from the cold._

_“Wow, Yuuri-kun,” she congratulates._

_Yuuri links his arms behind his head in satisfaction, smiling at the praise. It only lasts for a moment though, as another skater knocks Yuuri over._

_“Stay out of my way, fatso!” The other skater scoffs. He’s taller than Yuuri, with a stockier build and spiked black hair._

_“Takeshi-kun, don’t be mean to the new kid!” Yuko scolds._

_“Fatso! Fatso!” Takeshi jeers. Yuuri sits up, scowling at Takeshi._

_“Hey!!” Yuko protests._

_Years pass._

_A tv plays, showing a younger Viktor Nikiforov. He has long silver hair, tied up in a ponytail that flows behind him with every turn and twist that he does. He’s wearing a black costume with a section of glittering grey that stretches over his right arm and chest, fanning out over his stomach. Blue shards of fake ice adorn his hip and right shoulder. A piece of fabric mimics a half skirt, the fabric pinned around his waist and covering his right leg._

_Junior World Championships, Gold_  
Viktor Nikiforov  
Sofia, Bulgaria 

_Viktor skates and jumps, landing gracefully._

_“Russia’s Viktor Nikiforov,” Yuko says. “He won the gold in the Junior Worlds with the highest score in history!” Yuko jumps, twirling around so she now faces her friends rather than the tv._

_“He’s so cool,” she says fondly._

_Yuuri’s eyes widen in amazement._

_Yuko and Yuuri now skate side by side in the same routine._

_“Viktor would go like this!” Yuko says. She and Yuuri jump in sync._

_“This says Viktor has a poodle,” Yuko says, holding up a magazine. The front page is of Viktor hugging a brown standard poodle. “His poodle’s super cute!”_

_“Wow, so cute!” Yuuri says happily, taking the article when Yuko hands it to him._

_Takeshi reads another paper, uninterested in their conversation._

_Time passes._

_Yuuri stands outside, cradling a small poodle in his arms. It mirrors Viktor’s - just smaller. The poodle barks and cranes its head to look at Yuko, who leans in._

_“Huh? You have a poodle now, too?” Yuko questions._

_“Yeah. I named him Viktor,” Yuui says, looking down at the poodle as it turns its head into his chest._

_Yuko straightens and giggles. “You really like Viktor, huh?”_

_Takeshi taps his foot impatiently as the two converse._

_“I hope I can see you compete against Viktor soon,” Yuko says._

_Yuuri’s eyes widen in surprise behind the poodle’s head._

  
**************  


Yuuri hands his glasses over to Yuko, who stands on the other side of the barrier that separates the ice from the floor. Her fingers close over them.

“Um, I wanted you to see this, so I’ve been practicing it since the competitions ended. Please watch,” Yuuri says.

  
_Viktor skates onto the ice in the finals, the crowd cheering him on._

_“Last up is Viktor Nikiforov from Russia,” the announcer says. Viktor spreads his arms, greeting the crowd as he skates in a circle._

“All right Viktor! Get ‘em!” Minako cheers from the restaurant. Several bottles litter the table and floor around her. 

_“It’s clear he’s Russia’s hero! The cheers are deafening!” the announcer observes._  
  


Minako slams her fist on the table and turns around to the back of the restaurant. “Yuuri, your favorite, Viktor is about to start!” she yells.

  
“After the short program, he leads Giacometti, in second, by a huge margin.”  


“He’s not back yet,” Hiroko says, carrying a tray to Minako.

Yuuri skates onto the ice in Ice Castle Hasetsu, taking a breath of the cold air. He bows his head and closes his eyes. 

“Huh? This is…” Yuko murmurs.

  
_The music starts, and Viktor raises his head, facing the ceiling. He sweeps a hand over his head, his entire form shifting with the movement to cross his arms over his chest. A voice begins to sing, and Viktor slides gracefully across the ice. His arms sweep out with the flow of the music. His golden blades glitter._

_“In this program, he has four quads planned. Here comes the first one.”_

_Viktor skates, arms out. His expression shifts into focus, then his feet leave the ice. He spins in the air and lands with the satisfying click of metal on ice._

_“A quadruple lutz! Very clean!”_

_Viktor moves with the music as the crowd cheers._

_“The next quad is his signature move.”_

_Viktor rotates and preps for the jump._

_“How will it go?”_

_Viktor’s feet leave the ice once more, his arms tucked into his chest and his free leg sweeping out at the landing._

_“A quadruple flip! He lands this one too!”_  


Yuuri makes the same jump and twirls, a mirror copy of Viktor. He spins with one leg extended out horizontally, his hands behind his back. He switches legs. He skates across the ice along with Viktor’s music, the jumps and twirls a replica of Viktor’s skate in Tokyo.

  
_Viktor lands on the ice and crouches on one leg, spinning with one arm extended to the air._

_“Flying sit spin.”_

_Viktor straightens his legs, then extends his arms out, palms up and sweeping for the ceiling. He pulls his arms into himself again as the music dips. He turns away, his face set in a wistful expression._  


“The music is ‘Stay Close to Me’. This program brings out a new dimension in Viktor Nikiforov’s performance.”

Minako sways as she holds another bottle. There’s a light blush on her cheeks.

“Given that he has a million female fans worldwide, he’s sure free with his charms,” Minako says, swaying left and right. 

“You’re drinking too much, Minako-senpai,” Hiroko says.

  
_Viktor lands a quadruple Salchow._  


“This would tug at the heartstrings more if it were a younger, more naive man. Not a hottie like Viktor, but… let me think…” Minako murmurs.

  
_Viktor’s skates leave the ice again. His expression remains a wistful one. He lands, and-_  


Yuuri finishes the combination jumps. He skates over the scarred ice, sweeping through the entire rink as he mimics Viktor. Yuuri jumps-

  
_-and Viktor lands._

_“Triple Lutz.”_

_Viktor spins and skates into another jump._

_“A triple flip!”_  


Yuko gasps, bringing her hands in front of her mouth as Yuuri approaches the barrier and dances directly for her. Yuuri backs away, and-

  
_Viktor does the same._

_“Now, the last quad…”_

_The music peaks._

_Viktor prepares, then he jumps._

_“A quadruple toe loop-”_

_Viktor crouches into the landing, then springs up again._

_“-followed by a triple toe loop! He’s landed all his quads!”_

_The crowd cheers._

_“Now, a combination spin!”_

_Viktor spins, keeping one leg horizontal with his body. He jumps to switch to a sit spin-_  


-and Yuuri’s skate lands on the ice as he crouches into the sit spin. He slowly straightens his leg to his full height and lands a final jump and twirl as the music wraps up to a close. Yuuri folds his arms and leans back, panting and out of breath.

At the side of the rink, Yuko buries her face behind her hands. 

Yuuri looks over in alarm. Yuko slams her hands down on the barrier and leans over it. “That was super cool!” she yells. 

“A perfect copy of Viktor! Awesome!” Yuko squeals, slamming her hands down on the barrier at every word. Yuuri’s glasses and folded up jacket jump from the impact from where they're perched on either side of Yuko. “I thought you’d be depressed or something!” 

Yuuri’s eyes drop to the scarred ice, then he turns to face Yuko. “I was. But I got bored of feeling depressed, so I got thinking… I wanted to get my love for skating back. I thought I could remember how it was when I copied Viktor with you. Yu-chan I’ve…” Yuuri takes a breath.

  
\---------------------------  


Cameras flash at a trio of skaters. Viktor stands in the middle, his arms over the shoulders of the other two men. The one on his right returns the gesture, his hand over Viktor’s left shoulder. The other on his left, however, keeps a stoic expression, as if he’s glaring at the reporters rather than greeting them.

“Now we have a men’s singles consecutive five-time winner in the World Figure Skating Championships!”

A camera flash, and the scene is bathed in white. 

The three sit at a long table, their names on name cards in front of them. Cameras continue to snap pictures and light sweeps over them as they look over the crowd. 

“The victor is Russia’s Viktor Nikiforov!”

The man to his right, Chris Giacometti, smiles at him. 

“What do you have in mind for next season?” a reporter asks. 

Viktor brings his hand up to his chin, his eyes lowering as he thinks.

  
\---------------------------  


“I’ve always…” Yuuri says.

He’s interrupted by the appearance of three identical girls. They all look the same, same brown hair, chubby cheeks and curious eyes. The only difference would be the way they styled their hair, one with blue accessories and a bun, one with purple accessories and two ponytails and a final with pink accessories and one ponytail. 

“Stare…” they chorus. 

“Axel, Lutz, and Loop!” Yuko says, smiling sheepishly. “Haven’t they grown since you last saw them?”

“Y-Yeah,” Yuuri says uncomfortably. 

“Yuuri, you really did get fat!” the one in the middle, Lutz, says. 

“Are you really retiring?” Loop asks. 

“You’ve never had a girlfriend?” Axel asks. It sounds more like a statement. 

“Hey!” Yuko protests. She flails her arms, trying to catch the girls at the sight of Yuuri’s mildly horrified expression. “Sorry, my girls are such groupies!” 

“Really, really, really?” the triplets chorus. 

“They’re all your fans, Yuuri,” another voice says from behind him. 

“Welcome back!” Takeshi Nishigori wraps an arm around Yuuri’s neck, causing him to yelp in surprise. 

“Nishigori!” Yuuri says. 

“Dad!” The triplets yell in unison. 

Nishigori pulls Yuuri’s shirt up, patting Yuuri’s round stomach despite his protests. 

“Now you’re fatter than me!” Nishigori comments. 

The triplets take as many pictures and videos as they can catch. 

Once they've calmed down, Nishigori backs away from Yuuri. 

“You can come by anytime to practice,” Nishigori says, ruffling Axel and Loop’s hair. “The Nishigori family’s always got your back.”

“Yuuri, go, go!”

“Loose weight!”

  
\---------------------------  


Yuuri stands on a bench with one leg hanging off the edge, jumping as he gazes out over Hasetsu’s glimmering sea.

_During the five years I was away, I tried to ignore a lot of things by focusing on my skating._

Yuuri pauses and gazes out over the city, which sprawls out under his gaze from his perch on the hill. It’s a familiar city, one that he is used to and misses from being away for so long. 

_I wonder what I need so I can keep skating on my own..._

  
\---------------------------  


  
Viktor Nikiforov (27) in 1st After Short Program  
Will He Score a 5th Consecutive Win?!  


The TV in Yu-Topia Hot Springs displays Russia’s skating rink, the one that houses their top skaters.

  
Special Feature: Rising Star in Russia  
Yuri Plisetsky (Age 15)  


“Here in St. Petersburg, Russia, rising star Yuri Plisetsky is finally gearing up in earnest to join the senior competition,” the man in the voice over says.

Yuri leans back against the barrier of the rink, water bottle in one hand with a bored expression as he speaks to his coach. The image changes to Yuri’s skating. He skates gracefully over the ice then twists into a jump, landing perfectly. 

“Under coach Yakov...” the voice from the tv says.

Yuuri sits at a table in the restaurant, a towel around his neck and a remote in one hand. He gapes. 

“What’s with that jump?” Yuuri demands. “What?! Another one?”

The image changes again to show Yuri leaning on the barrier and talking to Viktor.

“...the 15 year-old is about to join Viktor Nikiforov in ushering Russia into an era with two champions.”

Yuuri blinks as he remembers that boy, the one from the bathrooms at the Grand Prix last year. The one who had glared at him like he was garbage at the side of a busy highway. 

_“Just retire already.”_

Yuuri’s eyes widen with worry.

  
\---------------------------  


_The pressure’s on now…_

Yuuri sits in his bedroom staring at his walls, which are covered in posters of Viktor in multiple stages of his life. Some are even of him off the ice. One pinned over Yuuri's dresser even shows the skater with his arms around a poodle that resembles Vicchan. 

_I’ve got to skate on the same ice as Viktor again someday._

Yuuri’s phone screen lights up with a text notification from Takeshi. His lockscreen is of Vicchan, his face currently covered with the notification banner. 

“Huh? Nishigori?” Yuuri murmurs, picking up the phone. 

Yuuri stares at his screen, then nearly jumps out of his skin. 

“What?!”

A video is displayed on his phone. 

One of him. 

Skating Viktor’s routine. 

"[Katsuki Yuuri] Tried to Skate Viktor’s FS Program [Stay Close to Me]" the video title reads. 

Yuuri shakes with horror as Nishigori’s voice speaks through the phone. Yuuri’s smiling, but he’s sure it’s either from the pure ridiculousness of the situation or from shock. There was no way that his current situation could get any worse. 

“I-I’m sorry, Yuuri,” Nishigori says, voice shaking. “My kids uploaded the video, and it went viral.”

Yuko yells at the triplets, two who are cowering before their mother. “How could you use my account without permission again?!” she scolds. 

Lutz and Loop cry, but Axel is watching a computer contently. 

Loop snaps out of it, pointing at the computer screen as well. “But all the skater otaku will love it.”

“Just delete it, okay?!” their mother yells. 

Yuuri hangs up and falls over sideways, still in shock. 

“Goodnight…” he says, staring into the void. 

Minako throws his bedroom door open. 

“What’s with that video?! It’s being retweeted everywhere!”

The video simply reaches more viewers. 

In an office, Morooka stares at the video anxiously, lunch forgotten in favor for the video. “Katsuki-kun, do you really have the time to do things like this?!”

“Yuuri!” a friendly voice says gleefully in a distant ice rink. 

“That Japanese Yuuri is an idiot,” Russian Yuri says, staring at his phone. 

“Hey, Yuri! Don’t slack off!” Yakov scolds from where he stands on the ice. 

In another apartment, another viewer gazes at the video on his phone. 

It’s Viktor Nikiforov, lounging on his couch with a brown poodle resting his head and front paws on Viktor’s stomach. The poodle's body rests beneath Viktor's legs as the dog lazily wags his tail. Viktor watches the video with a concentrated expression. His brow is furrowed in thought, his blue eyes sharp and difficult to read. 

He shifts, eyes narrowing as he makes his decision.

  
\---------------------------  


“Kyushu faces a sudden cold wave. It was to be a good day for viewing cherry blossoms, but there was a massive snowfall.” The weather reporter’s voice drifts through the restaurant full of lounging customers.

Ice and snow frost the windows of the hall leading to Yuuri’s room. Outside his door, his mother knocks and calls for Yuuri. 

“Yuuri, don’t hold up in your room! Help shovel snow!” Hiroko says. 

Yuuri sits up and adjusts his glasses. His room is shrouded in darkness, his curtains closed and Yuuri himself curled up under a pile of blankets. 

“Snow?” Yuuri says. He pulls his curtains open, gazing at the blanket of white that now covers the Hasetsu earth. 

“Wow, what the…” Yuuri murmurs as light spills into his room. Just outside his window, he can see hints of soft pink cherry blossoms through the white snow that have cluttered the branches. “It’s already April, too.” Snow falls serenely past the glass. 

“What’s on the news?” Yuuri picks up his phone, but its screen remains dark when he presses the home button. “Oh, yeah… I turned it off so I wouldn’t get calls.”

Yuuri gets dressed, picks up a shovel and heads out to the front of the building. He slides open the screen door, taking a breath. A bark of a dog rings through the area, and Yuuri looks down in disbelief. It’s a brown poodle, sitting out in the snow with its tail wagging and tongue out. 

“Vicchan?” Yuuri says in surprise. 

Well, maybe not? This dog is bigger, and-

“Nope!” Yuuri confirms. 

The dog pounces and knocks Yuuri to the floor. 

Yuuri drops his shovel in favor of breaking his fall as the dog places sloppy licks to Yuuri’s face, knocking his glasses askew. Yuuri studies the dog that currently stands on him, its paws on his stomach. 

“He’s much bigger than Vicchan…” Yuuri turns his head away from the dog, who licks his jaw then leans back, resting his head on his paws and whining. 

Yuuri’s eyes widen as realization dawns on him. 

“Huh? Could he be… No, it can’t be,” Yuuri mumbles as he studies the dog again. 

The dog looks up as Yuuri’s father walks in behind them. 

“Yuuri, isn’t he just like Vicchan?” his father remarks. “He came with a really good-looking foreign guest!” 

The dog sits back. 

“He’s in the hot spring right now,” Yuuri’s father finishes. 

Yuuri gasps. 

No.

Way. 

Yuuri scrambles to his feet, stumbling and almost slamming his face into the floor in his efforts. 

“Yuuri!” his father calls after him. “What’s wrong?”

Yuuri sprints through the restaurant, nearly knocking over a souvenir table on his way.

  
The warm water has steam curling off the surface. This certainly was a change from Russia.  


Yuuri bolts through a door and almost runs into a wall. He rounds a corner clumsily.

  
A hand runs along an arm, relishing the steam and warmth of the springs.  


Yuuri slides across the bath house floor, skidding a few feet before regaining his footing. He clears the fog from his glasses then scans the room. He then sprints outside, the steam rushing out to meet him.

Yuuri stares out over the hot springs, and comes face to face with the foreigner, who is relaxing in the springs with a folded towel on his head. 

Yuuri gapes. 

It’s Viktor Nikiforov. 

And he’s sitting in the hot spring, soaking in the water. 

“Vi-Viktor,” Yuuri stutters. 

Viktor stares back at him, his face faintly flushed from the heat of the water. He moves a hand to take the towel off his head. 

Yuuri stares at Viktor in shock. “Why are you here?” 

Viktor takes the towel off his silver hair and stands up, water streaming off him. He gives his signature smile and extends a hand flamboyantly to Yuuri. 

“Yuuri-" he puts a flourish to the name- "starting today, I’m your coach,” he announces. “I’ll make you win the Grand Prix Final.” Viktor withdraws his hand and winks. 

“Huh?” Yuuri gasps. 

“What?!” Yuuri's voice echoes through the grey sky of Hasetsu. 

_He was a genius who never failed to surprise me._

  
To Be Continued!!!  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi! Thanks for reading this despite it being repetitive and having some rough descriptions and transitions. I apologize if the spacing and perspective shifts were confusing, I'm still playing around with the coding and placement.
> 
> Thanks again for reading, and please leave some feedback if possible!


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